“For your own sake, let me beg of you not to stay for a moment. " The Wastrel laughed. “You need a reason. Just because she was sorry for that young fool! "Uh-huh," he repeated, rising and bowing as he passed Ruth's table. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes.
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